


As We Sleep Among The Dead

by caz2y5



Category: Left 4 Dead, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caz2y5/pseuds/caz2y5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPN/L4D crossover. Dean wakes from a coma to find that the world ended while he was asleep. he finds himself alone in a world where the dead walk and Dean sets out to find his car, his brother and his fallen angel</p>
            </blockquote>





	As We Sleep Among The Dead

_“Dean… It’s me, Castiel… you need to wake up…oh father... please Dean. Wake up.”_

*****

Dean lurches forward, his shoulders and head coming clear off the mattress as he came awake with a gasp. Hazel eyes flashing open, his breathing ragged as it keeps hitching in his throat. His heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Wide eyed, Dean glances around the room trying to shake off the dream and take in his surroundings.

A grimace crosses his features as he leans forward. His knees sliding up and forearms wrapping across the top of them. The ragged in out of his breathing is the only sound in the silent hospital room. Dean feels like he needs more air, each deep breath like razor blades scraping across nerve endings in his chest. He knows even before he presses a palm to the sensitive part of his ribs, that their broken. That rules out deep breaths for the time being.

Dean’s hair is slick with sweat when he runs his hands through it. Wracking his brain as he tries to recall exactly how the hell he had ended up in a hospital bed, and wearing an open fronted blue gown. There's machinery on each side of the bed, which Dean figures from the pull of the wires and cables, are monitoring him. Although right now none of them appear to be switched on.

There is a buzzer for the nurse on a small bedside table and Dean reaches for it. Wincing when the needle in his arm reminds him he shouldn’t reach that far with that hand. Dean presses the buzzer, a frown on his face when there is no accompanying noise out beyond the closed door and the light on the wall of switches behind the bed doesn't go on.

"Nurse?"

The words croak out, barely a whisper, The sound of it grates in his throat and its like trying to gargle with ground glass. Even his tongue is like sand paper as he swallows and it presses to the roof of his mouth. Dean can’t find any water; even the IV bag is empty. Dean runs his tongue over his lips and calls out again.

"Nurse?"

When its still quiet after five minutes Dean sighs and starts pulling the sensors from his chest. The needle from his wrist goes next and it takes a minute for the bleeding to stop before he can try and get up.

It's not just the bad service but where the fuck is Cas and Sam? Last Dean can recall the three of them had been on a hunt and Dean had made the mistake of mouthing off at a demon. That went a long way to explaining the gown and drab white walls. So if Dean was hurt what happened to Sam and Cas that they weren’t waiting here for him to wake up?

When he finally drops his feet over the side of the bed, Dean hesitates. It feel a lot like he has been hit by a truck and he isn’t completely sure that he has the strength to even stand. After a moment though he pushes up and there is a pounding in his head that threatens to topple him.

*****

_It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Go in the abandoned shoe factory, find the bones of the pissed off dead guy and burn them before he could kill anyone else. Simple._

_That was what it was supposed to be. If Cas could face down a ghost while they salt and burned it’s bones, then Dean and Sam would see about letting him come along with them on the tougher ones. Easy peasy._

_But since when had things ever been easy for the Winchesters. Turns out it wasn’t a vengeful spirit but a Revenant._

_Dean had always figured he would buy it on a hunt. It was one of those destiny things that he had no argument with. Better to go down fighting than old and frail or worse._

_Sam had run to the car to get the things they needed to take care of the thing while Cas and Dean had tried to hold it off. Shotguns didn’t do much except maybe piss it off more._

_Cas went sprawling first, tossed across the room like a ragdoll. Dean couldn’t do anything to help him because the next minute the Revenant was on him. All claws and teeth, Dean slammed into the support structure for the floor above, the air knocked from his lungs._

_Before he could get his bearings it pitched him across the room and Dean slammed hard against the wall of the abandoned shoe factory. He felt ribs crack from the force of it he knew it was only a matter of time before the lights went out._

_Dean rolled on to his stomach and tried to crawl toward Ruby’s knife. It hurt to breathe and Dean couldn’t get his lungs to expand far enough for him to catch his breath, it made him light headed and dizzy_

_Blood dripped down his face from a cut on his forehead where he had bounced off the brick wall._

_Its rotted fingers wrapped around his throat and it lifted him up and slammed him hard back against the wall. Dean kicked at it and scrabbled at the hands at his throat as it swam in Deans’ field of vision._

_Dean fought the panic that rose up inside his chest as sparks of light popped in his head. The thing flickered like it wasn’t really there and then its grip tightened. Dean hoped that Sam and Cas got out of there okay as he slipped into unconsciousness._

*****

Dean staggered the small distance to the little private bathroom. The water from the tap is cold and he bends gulping it down till he feels like he may burst with it.

He straightens catching sight of himself in the mirror. There is a cut down his forehead that looks like it has begun to heal. His skin is pale and there is a beard in the making across his jaw. The hair almost as thick as his father wore his own. Dean scratches his fingers through it for a minute then turns back to the hospital room.

There is a chart hanging on the end of the bed and Dean walks up and reads it. A smile crosses his lips when he sees his name at the top of the chart. Dean Romero. He sighs as he tries to make out what the chart says about why the hell he is here.

Some of it he can read like: Inter Cranial Pressure, Coma, also superficial, and that last one there could be hematoma. Deans’ pretty sure Doctors must take a class in scribble along with the Latin and all that medical stuff that they learn. But at least he knows why he is there.

The one thing that bothers him though is the date he was last checked on by a nurse. There is almost a two month discrepancy from the date here and the date he walked into that warehouse with Sam and Cas.

*****

_Dean was sitting on the hood of the impala a cold beer in his hand as he looked up at the stars. He was lost in thought, not really looking at the dark sky. He had to figure out how to make sure that he and Sam wouldn’t have to say yes. Dean was so lost in his thought it took him a few moments before he realized the warmth next to him wasn’t Sam._

_Castiel was sitting quietly on the hood beside him, his head turned up at the stars as well._

_"Cas?"_

_Castiel turned just his head, tilting it in that way he did that had only blue eyes turning to meet Dean’s. “Yes Dean?"_

_Dean glanced around at their surroundings, just the two of them seated on the impala in an endless blackness with only the stars bright in the sky. Dean frowns but Castiel answers the unasked question._

_"Sam is asleep on the back seat.”_

_He leans forward and ducks down as he looks back through the windshield. There is condensation on the glass and Dean can make out the slight movement of Sam as he tosses in his sleep.._

_Dean sits back against the windscreen and turns his gaze back up to the stars again._

_“Do you think we will make it Cas?” Dean asks, his eyes still looking up at the stars._

_Castiel sighs pulling his coat a little tighter around himself. Dean can’t help but notice just how much more Cas is feeling the cold now his grace has dwindled so much._

_“You are Dean Winchester. I have come to believe you are capable of anything.” Castiel offers with a sincere look on his face._

_Dean’s eyes fall from the stars to land on Cas as he meets his gaze. “That’s not what I asked.”_

_Castiel smiles so warmly that his eyes light up. It’s the first time Dean has seen him smile and he isn’t sure if he should be happy at how incredible a smile it is or sad because his angel has fallen far enough to smile. And since when did he think of Cas as his angel._

*****

The hospital seems abandoned. Litter is strewn through the darkened corridors and it’s eerily silent. The power is out too. The lack of lighting leaves some of the corridors so dark he can’t see his hand in front of his face.

The nurse’s station is just as dark and deserted as the hallways, but Dean doesn’t let that stop him. He searches the darkness. Checking the phone first, but it’s dead. Then Dean feels around in the dark until he finds the night nurse’s flashlight.

It makes it easier to find what he is looking for. He finds a phone book under the counter and Dean sticks the flashlight in his mouth as he flips through the pages. He finds the hotel listings and the address of the first hotel. Dean tears the page out, folding it before dropping the book back on the table. One last glance around and he leaves, making his way down the dark hospital corridor.

After scrambling around a flipped gurney and glancing into a few rooms Dean finds what he is looking for. The linen closet has sheets and blankets and on a shelf in the back there are some blue scrubs. Dean digs out a pair and slips them on. Still no shoes but its better than the butt cleavage revealing gown he is wearing.

Further down, there is an exit in the form of a stairwell. It stinks of rot and decay, and two flights down Dean stumbles across a corpse. He trails the light over it. Can see it has been there a while. Dean isn’t sure if it was chewed on before or after it died.

He pushes down the bar and opens the door, eyes squinting shut in the bright afternoon sun. Dean pauses, hand held up to shield his eyes from the brightness as he looks around. Dean breathes in the air. Sweet and fresh after the stifling enclosing reek of the stairwell.

Outside is even worse than the mess inside the hospital although there are no bodies the ground is littered with refuse. Cars stand in the middle of the road, abandoned with the doors open. A few of the surrounding buildings look like there has been looting and fires.

It reminds Dean of when Zachariah sent him forward to 2014 and he swallows down the sick feeling in his stomach. There is no one around and Dean is glad. He doesn’t exactly want to run into any Croat’s while wearing nothing but hospital scrubs.

*****

_The field of flowers seemed to go on forever, coloring the desert sand purple in all directions. He has no idea how he got there or even where it is but it reminds him of Arizona in the spring when the desert flowers bloom._

_Dean raises his palm to shield his eyes from the radiating white orb of the sun as he looks around. There are Mountains in the distance, a dark chocolate against an azure sky. The place would be almost beautiful if he didn’t feel so damned alone._

_“Hello, Dean.” Cas says appearing from nowhere like he use to back in his angel days_

_Dean spins to face him and there is this look on Cas’ face. Its somewhere between happiness and sadness, both at the same time as Cas tilts his head to the side_

_They stand there just out of arms reach of each other as the sun reels across the sky chased by the moon. Day becoming night becoming day. The mountains wearing away to dust as the flowers die and re-bloom over and over._

_It’s an eternity as they keep each others gaze. Even the sand shifts beneath their feet as the landscape changes. Bones of things long dead are unearthed and the sand swallowing them up all over again._

_“Cas?” The question breaks the mesmerizing play out of the universe around them and Dean steps forward. Closes the space between them and pulls Cas into an embrace before he can even think about it being awkward._

*****

Dean sticks to cover. Moving from doorway to doorway or crouching behind cars until he reaches the hotel. He doesn’t see anyone and the silence is even more eerie than it had been in the hospital.

He is kind of disappointed because he had hoped the Impala would be parked in the lot out front only it’s not there. Dean puts the thought out of his mind and heads to the office.

The office is deserted and Dean doesn’t bother to call out or ring the bell on the counter. Instead he just goes behind it and checks the guest register. _Samuel Savini and Castiel Weber, Room 14._ Dean runs his hand over the names and then turns to help himself to the room key.

That’s when he sees him. The motel clerk standing in the door way and Dean’s all ready to feed him a line about why he’s on the wrong side of the counter when the guy lunges at him. Hands like claws grabbing at his arm and shirt with his mouth open. Dean falls backwards over the counter the cloying stench of decay hits him and he is surprised he didn’t smell the thing sooner.

There is a struggle. Dean’s not fighting well because of his ribs and the shock, his brain refusing to kick into survival mode. Dean’s got a hand under its jaw holding it out of reach as it snaps and claws at him.

Dean scrabbles reaching out for something to brain the guy with. His hand lands on the reception phone and Dean brings it up, slams it into the clerk’s head. There is a snap and the guy’s head lolls to the side. Not that it seems to deter him in anyway from trying to bite Dean. But Dean is up and off the counter grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall and braining the guy with it over and over again till he stops moving.

Dean stares at the still form, still holding the fire extinguisher over his head as he tries to get his breathing back under control and wincing each time his chest expands enough to hurt. His eyes wide and his heart racing as it occurs to him just how fucked up this is.

This had to be an angel thing. Dean’s mind still recalling how eerily familiar to Zachariah’s future trip this all was. Only this time it was like being in a Romero zombie film instead of being attacked by the Croatoan’s. Dean kicks the Clerk in the guts to make sure he is down for the count. This was an honest to god zombie.

Dean glances around making sure there aren’t more of them before he kneels down and pokes the guy. Even before he had caved it’s head in with the fire extinguisher the guy had been covered in blood. Dean was betting not all of it had been the clerks. Especially the stuff smeared around its mouth. There had been a gaping wound in the guy’s throat which was obviously where he had been bitten.

This guy flew in the face of all that Dean knew about actual zombies. Not that he had silver to pin it into its coffin anyway. But this thing, that appeared to eat human flesh and only stopped when you caved its head in. That was just all kinds of wrong.

“Not funny, you son of a bitch.” Dean curses loudly at the sky hoping Zachariah or Raphael, which ever of those junkless dicks had done this heard him. He was sick of being manipulated.

When Dean is certain the guy isn’t going to get up again, he stands. Keeping his eyes on the body anxiously, Dean grabs all of the room keys and heads out the door.

Room 14 was empty. Dean had kind of hoped, but it made sense, this place wasn’t exactly the best location to hole up against what ever the fuck had happened while Dean had been unconscious. There is no note, nothing. Like always there is no trace there was ever a Winchester staying in the room at all.

Dean tries the other rooms, careful that there isn’t another of those things locked in any of them. A few are empty but a few contain discarded suitcases and other personal effects. Dean wolfs down a bag of chips and then collects up all the food and drink from the mini bars.

*****

_Dean hesitated, shining the light of the flashlight in all three directions again before his curiosity got the better of him. He made his way, tip toeing toward the double doors at the end of the shadow filled corridor. There were smears of blood on the wall and the occasional bloody hand print. When he reached the doors they’re shut, secured with a piece of broken broom handle slid between the two handles._

_He put his hand on both the loops of metal, sticking the flashlight in his mouth and holding them together while he used the other hand to pull the broom handle out. Taking the light out of his mouth Dean cautiously pushed one of doors open. There was a little light filtering in from the bay of windows on the far wall and the things that it illuminated… It was like stepping into the twilight zone._

_There was blood. A lot of it. And about five people sitting amongst it. Dean’s mind reeled. These things had to be ghosts or something because there was no way living people could look like that._

_One of them shifted and looked in his direction. An open wound in its cheek revealed a glimpse of yellowed teeth. There was blood smeared down the front of it, covering its mouth and hands._

_Something was off about its eyes too, all blood shot and discolored. At first Dean thought the thing was sucking the blood from the fingers of its hands. But then he realized it was chewing at its own digits._

_Dean stared at it waiting for that tell tale flicker that would tell him it was a ghost. Only it didn’t flicker. Instead it raised its head and moaned at him. A low noise that made the other four snap their heads in Dean’s direction._

_This was bad. Dean had seen enough horror films to know that this could in no way be good_

_There is a split second where, when confronted by something that the human mind can’t comprehend; that thing in the dark that invokes something primordial deep inside. A moment where there is indecision on where to fight or flee._

_Dean had that moment, only thanks to his years of training and hunting, it isn’t a moment of hesitation. His brain already assessing how to fight the things in front of him. Silver is the only thing he knows of and he doesn’t have any. Not salt, Not a gun. All he has is a flashlight and stupid broken broom handle._

_The things were getting closer. Dean didn’t need to think about it, he reached out to pull the door shut when four blood stained and damaged fingers curled around the wood edge of the door. Pulling slightly as the thing stepped from behind it._

_Dean had seen his fair share of scary dead things but this; its bottom jaw was missing. It’s tongue lolling down over the gaping hole of what was left of its throat. Viscera hung from it and if Dean had been unsure about the whole ‘these things are real’ thing he wasn’t anymore. Not when it reached out with its other bony hand and its fingers grasped at Dean’s wrist._

_Dean back peddled expecting to feel nails rake down his skin but instead something slimy and wet smears itself across his hand. Dean feels ill as the things skin separates from its hand in globs of putrid muck._

*****

By the time Dean leaves the hotel the sun is low in the sky and he has maybe two hours of light left. He’s got a plastic shopping bag full of food, drink and matches. Dean also has a plan, it’s not much but it’s a start.

He holes up for the night in an abandoned sports and camping store. Dean had past it on the way to the motel and seen that the door was wide open. He didn’t exactly hold out any hope of there being any weapons left in there but the windows and doors were reinforced and barred. Dean figured so long as there weren’t too many of those things inside he could barricade it.

There is a chewed on corpse on the floor just far enough back from the door that he couldn’t clearly see it from the street. It’s good because it means that the store at some point had zombies in it and it probably wasn’t looted. Dean hauls it outside and closes the door.

A half hour later the entire shop is searched and deemed clear. Dean barricades as much of the entries as he can. Taping blankets over the windows before he sets up and lights a camping stove.

Dean strips out of his scrubs and cleans himself in the staff toilet washing away the dried blood and filth. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror for long before dressing in clothes and shoes he has grabbed from the store. K rations and mini bar bottles of whiskey and Dean is settling down to sleep in camping gear.

*****

_It's taken him what feels like forever skulking his way across the states. Hiding from those things and hoping to find someone who’s alive. He’s been following the i90 for a day when he comes across the Impala._

_It’s fenced in by a blockade of ruined cars on the outskirts of some small town. His first thought is how good it is to see his car. The town is nothing but ramshackle and crumbling buildings. There is nothing but debris littering the street._

_Slowly Dean approaches the car, pistol at the ready. Eyes scanning the streets for walkers while his brain tries not to think too hard about where Sam and Cas went. Or why they abandoned his baby._

_When he is close enough Dean takes his other hand off his gun and runs it slowly over the rear fender. If any one had seen him they would have thought it was a lover’s caress._

_“Hey baby, what did those mean undead do to you?”_

_Three more strides and he is at the drivers door. He’s still watching the buildings and streets. Listening for the tell tale moan of their approach._

_He’s so busy keeping an eye on the empty street that when he opens the door he hadn’t seen the thing until it lunges at him from the driver’s seat._

_It’s face is sallow and grey. Skin sagging where it’s torn and hanging from his face. Eyes a dull glassy grey color with flecks of red through them. Its hair hangs down shaggy and matted with dried blood and dirt. Blood drips from its mouth and coats its teeth._

_“No! Oh god Sammy, no!”_

_Dean wrenches away from his grip and turns to run only Castiel is standing behind him. Fencing him in and keeping him from running. His trench coat is torn and bloody. Bone is visible through a gash in his chest where his shirt is torn open._

_Dean feels his heart break as Cas’ mouth opens lips curling back to reveal dirty bloody teeth. He closes his hands on the lapels of Castiel's trench coat pushing him back. His eyes wide and his gut turning at the stench._

_Hands close over his own shoulders and Dean is helpless to pull away as Sam's teeth sink into the flesh of his exposed throat. He lets go of Cas to tug and shove at Sam but it’s no good. Dean screams as Cas moves in closer to join in Sam's feast._

*****

Dean feels much better with a gun in his hands. Other than the dream he hadn’t really slept except in fitful bursts, his hand on the knife under his pillow most of the night.

He is armed, packed and ready to put his plan into action before the sun rises. He has to wait till it’s light enough though so he can see them coming. Dean is silent and careful. It only takes him about two hours to siphon two jerry cans full of gas from the cars in the street.

He puts the gas and two large duffle’s full of supplies into the back of the only car he hadn’t siphoned from. Dean eases the door shut and glances around. He had been fairly quiet but there are still a few of those things, bodies decaying as they shamble toward him.

It takes under thirty seconds to hot wire the car. The engine sputters a few times before turning over and roaring to life. He hopes the things been regularly serviced because as he sits up he sees another of those things shamble from behind the building next to him and start lurching slowly toward him.

Its got almost a full tank and Dean is relieved as he shifts it into gear and makes his way through the town. His plan is to make his way to Bobby’s. It’s a two day drive away and Dean is figuring on taking the back roads if the major towns all look like this. He just hopes there are no Croat fences to get through.

*****

_The road is one long black line that stretches for miles in front of him. Reaching into the distance till it smudges into nothing where the horizon meets the most beautiful azure sky. The engine of the Impala purring as the tires eat up the distance with out getting any closer._

_Dean’s alone, hand tapping on the wheel and elbow resting on the door as he drives. The sun is shining and it’s just the right amount of warm as the wind whistles through the open window. Travelling Riverside Blues is playing on the radio and Dean can’t help but think there is just one thing missing._

_“Hello Dean.”_

_Dean turns to look and Castiel smiles a greeting from the passenger seat. Dean would never say it out loud but he is beginning to appreciate the way Castiel’s face lights up with that smile._

_“Cas?” Dean flicks his eyes from Cas to the road and then finally back to Cas. “How the hell did you get here?”_

_Castiel stares out the front windscreen watching as the scenery changes. The brightness bleeding instantly from the sky until it’s no longer a bright summer sky but a clear dark blue night. Stars sparkle visibly from the firmament and the moon is a large grey and silver orb sitting unmoving just above the same horizon that they drive towards it._

_Castiel’s eyes seem sad even though he is still smiling. “I was about to ask you that same question. As I believe this may be a dream.”_

_A dream. “huh?” Dean figured that made just about as much sense as the rest of the things that had happened to him lately. A frown creased Dean’s face. Dean only really had two kinds of dreams and unless Castiel started taking his clothes off or died then this one didn’t fit the bill for either._

_“Which one of us is dreaming Cas.”_

_Castiel’s tie flaps in the breeze of the rolled down windows. “That certainly is an interesting question.” He grinned as he tugged open his tie_

_Dean glances at Cas. He’s no longer wearing his trench coat and suit. Instead he is dressed the same way Cas was the last time he had seen him for real. Faded denim tight round his thighs, one of Dean’s old Zeppelin shirts where the transfer is so faded you can’t even read it any more and the cuff of the collar is torn._

_There was a spark of something inside Dean’s chest, just a whisper of something so sentimental that it almost ached. Dean raised a hand and reached out resting it on Cas’ shoulder. Dean brushed his thumb across Cas’ collarbone._

_“I’m going to find you and Sammy, Cas.” Dean stated. So certain of it being a fact. “You know that right?” He smiled hoping that Cas had the same certain faith to know it was true._

_Cas looked at him and returned the same warm smile. “I have faith that you will.”_

*****

Dean pulls up to a farm house. He had planned to drive straight through but the road is haphazardly clogged with abandoned cars and given the time it takes to shift them he doesn’t really want to have to do it in the dark. So before the sun gets too low in the sky he stops.

It’s pretty far back from the road and there are no cars out front even though he is kind of hoping there is some one alive inside. He even knocks on the door before he realizes that if any of those things are in there he just called them to dinner.

It’s silent though and Dean walks across the porch looking in the windows to see if he can see anything shambling around. Dean freezes at the third window. It’s a small sitting room with floral wallpaper and a matching lounge suite. It’s not that that stops him though.

Sitting in an armchair is a man. He’s slouched forward in such a way that what was left after the rifle fired has spilled out the large hole in his head and dribbled onto the floor. There is also a woman and a younger looking man on the couch opposite their brains painting the wall behind them.

Dean moves around to the back of the house finding an open window to shimmy through. Once he is sure the house is empty Dean throws blankets from a linen cupboard over the bodies and proceeds to search and barricade the house.

Hammering the last board across the window Dean rests his head against it. He never really was a praying man. Not even now that he knows god is out there and that he just doesn’t give a fuck. But he prays now. Prays that Sam and Cas are safe, that they’re not out there somewhere shambling with the other monsters.

He throws down a handful of Tylenol to drown out the droning ache of fatigue and broken ribs. Washes them down with more mini bar alcohol and chews down some jerky before curling up exhausted and trying to sleep.

*****

_The cobalt sky over head reaches on forever. No clouds mar its endless surface. Dean is sitting on a park bench. It’s familiar, only this time the playground is empty._

_Dean leans back against the bench laying his elbows over it and enjoying the sunshine before he realizes Castiel is not sitting on the bench next to him. Instead Cas appears in the distance walking slowly toward him._

_His coat flaps around his legs in the wind showing the white front of his shirt. The wind sends Castiel’s tie fluttering over his right shoulder and the look on his friends face is that strong stern look that he always wore_

_When Cas seems him though his face lights up with one of those smiles that have started to just make Dean’s day. They wash away the fatigue and the feeling of stone that weighs on his shoulders._

_The play equipment folds out of his way like flowers wilting in the heat. It makes Dean think of Charlton Heston as Moses parting the Red Sea._

_Dean stands, and when Castiel is close enough he reaches out. One hand twisting around Castiel’s tie and pulling him closer. Their lips meeting and it’s soft and Castiel’s lips are warm. It makes Dean smile the way Cas hesitates before he presses forward and joins the kiss with his own movements._

_When the kiss ends Dean leans back and looks Castiel in the eyes. They’re so bright, like cerulean pools and make him think of the ocean. Cas smiles his tongue peeking out to lick across his dry bottom lip._

_Castiel is the one that leans back in for more, making Dean grin like the Cheshire cat. Only this time it’s different. It’s like dust and sand and when Dean dips his tongue into Castiel’s mouth he tastes ash._

_Grittiness against his lips and Dean leans back. Watches as the wind whips at Castiel blowing away each particle until Dean is holding the tie of a skeleton. Its bones black like ash before they too crumble and are carried away on the wind._

*****

He’s been on the road two days. Fifty hours of nothing but the beating sun and the distant moan of undead. It’s worse near the towns. Some of them turning and slowly ambling after him in their awkward way. He leaves them in the rearview at eighty miles an hour.

He’s out in the middle of nowhere. The road twists lazily across what seems an alien landscape of sparse trees and grass. There has been no sign of life for the last hundred miles. That’s when he sees them. 

The old beat up car looks like it was on its last legs long before it conked out here. Hood flung open to mark that it had broken down.

There is a Woman sitting on the roof. Knees pulled up and chin resting on the arms flung haphazardly across them. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail as her eyes scan the horizon.

When she sees him she stands up arms up over her head as she tries to wave Dean down. A tall thin black man steps out from behind the car, the rifle in his hands pointed at the sky where it rests easy on his hip.

Dean passes them pulling over on to the side of the road about 10 feet in front of them. His hand is on his pistol before he is fully out of the car. But he leaves it tucked behind his back.

“Hey.” Dean calls out as he climbs out the car. “You guys need a hand?”

rough biker, his arms covered in tattoos, straightens from where he is leaning over the engine with another younger looking guy. Dean watches as he pulls a rag from the back pocket of his jeans and wipes the grease from his hands.

“Hey,” he says sticking his hand out in a casual manner. “Name’s Francis.”

There are four of them in all. Francis introduces them. The tall black guy that reminds Dean of a skinny Uriel is Louis. The young guy, Ellis makes Dean think of Sam. Even Francis reminds Dean a little of Bobby with the gruff way he speaks.

Francis flings his arm around the dark haired beauty once she has climbed down off the car and introduces her as Zoey. There is a flash of steel in his eyes for a second that tells Dean he considers her his.

It occurs to Dean that she could be the last female alive in this desolate place the world has become. Only it’s not what’s on his mind right now. All he can think about is Cas and Sammy. Finding them alive and safe, that’s all that matters.

While he helps them get back on the road, they tell him the things he doesn’t know. The things he missed in his coma. Tells him about how the Green Flu spread too fast for CEDA and the evacuations. How the infection spread through bites and caused mutations. By their descriptions, Dean didn’t think he wanted to meet a Smoker or a Tank.

They tell him how they are headed to the Florida Keys. That they heard there is no infection there. They even invite him to come with them after Ellis expounds on a story about how he and his buddy Keith had been there once.

It would be easy enough to go with them, Dean can’t though. He has to find Sam and Castiel. He doesn’t wax nostalgic but he tells them about his brother and his friend. They can’t help though, haven’t seen anyone the army base they had left. 

So after sharing a meal and getting their car back on the road Dean gets back behind the wheel. He sighs, he is tired. It’s the kind of deep tired that seeps into your bones. Dean starts the engine and follows the asphalt letting another hundred miles pass under the wheels before he finally finds a place to hole up for the night. 

*****

_When Castiel smiles at him this time, Dean is wary. Those lips look so inviting but after what happened last time he isn’t sure he can risk it. Castiel has different ideas._

_He leans in and Dean feels the press of warm lips and a swipe of tongue before Castiel pulls away and looks at him with a look of such uncertainty._

_“Did I do it wrong?” Cas voice is all gravel and honey and concern as he tilts his head to the side and stares at Dean with those azure eyes._

_Dean smiles and smoothes a hand over the crease in the led zeppelin t-shirt. “I had a bad dream.”_

_“I think we both have had enough of them.” Castiel smiles. “I would like for this to be a good one.”_

_“I’d like that to Cas.” Dean says as he leans in and uses his lips to press Castiel further back against the leather of the Impala’s back seat._

*****

Dean’s up before the sun, still exhausted and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sleeping in his clothes and shoes is uncomfortable but he doesn’t want to be caught out. If something goes wrong. He doesn’t want to risk having to make another run for it, either bare foot or in his underwear.

He lays on his back watching as the growing light makes the shadows dance among the high beams of the ceiling and listens to the distant sounds of a cow bellowing to be milked. He muses at how fast everything went to shit and the angels just fucking left. 

Dean scrubs a hand over his face trying to clear the last cobwebs of sleep from his brain when he hears it. 

“fuck… come on…god please.” It’s mumbled like some one is desperate and trying to remain silent. The sound of their panicked breathing is so loud Dean wonders why they’re bothering to whisper.

He moves to the edge of the hayloft and looks down into the barn. There is a couple. A woman crying in a blood stained top and a guy trying to wrench the drivers door open on Dean’s car.

“Hey!” He calls out staying low where he is although his hand moves to his gun. The man turns and points a gun in his direction. Firing without even checking his target.

“Give me the keys!” he demands. The man’s hands are shaking and the woman clinging to him as she sobs. 

“Dude. I don’t have them. It’s not my car.” Dean just rolls back further into the darkness of the hayloft. Getting up and moving around to a better vantage point. 

There is a hay door and he looks through the gap in it out toward the road and can see about a dozen zombies making their way toward the barn. 

“You might want to shut the barn door before you have visitors though.” 

It’s too late though, the woman screams as one of the infected stumble in through the door. Dean watches as the guy just abandons her and runs for the small door at the other end of the barn.

He sits on his haunches by the edge of the hayloft looking down as the woman just stands still and screams. The guy struggles with the chain and padlock on the small side door and then stands back and shoots it off.

“Oh god! Help me. Please.” The woman shrieks. 

Dean sighs and lowers the ladder. Even if these people where the biggest idiots he’d ever had the misfortune to meet. No one, deserved to be eaten alive by the undead.

By the time he has the large double doors closed and a chain looped around the handles to keep it locked there are five dead zombies on the ground. The woman is still screaming and Dean turns to tell her to shut the fuck up when he realizes what’s happened.

Her asshole boyfriend is dead in the smaller doorway, two of the dumb fucks chowing down as a third lunges at the woman. Dean fires his gun but not before its teeth are tearing out the woman’s throat. 

Once he has the barn completely secure. The sound of moans and attempted forced entry reverberating around the high vaulted roof. Dean goes back to the woman.

Her hand Is clamped over the hole in her throat and bubbles of blood foam at her lips. She gasps for breath eyes wide and filled with fear as she looks up at Dean. 

He swears under his breath trying to help stem the bleeding but it’s useless. All he can do is let her bleed on him while he watches the light fade from her eyes.

Dean sits back against the car biting on the back of his hand that’s still holding the gun. His brows furrow and his body is wracked by silent sobs.

He puts a bullet in her skull and packs his things back into the car quietly. Before he pulls the chain free from the door he sets fire to the hay in the loft. Dean rubs a hand over his eyes and then drives out alone into the beautiful brightness of the new day. 

*****

_Castiel lays on his back on the crisp clean white sheets of the motel. Arms flung up and framing his head where they fall across the pillow. The led zeppelin t-shirt is shoved up into a crinkled line across the top of his chest exposing all the flesh of his torso to the room._

_Dean’s propped up on one elbow, fingertips running over the plains of Castiel’s chest. A slight frown crosses his features when it trails over the puckered and red scar where he had helped Castiel carve the banishing symbol into his chest with a Stanley knife._

_Using the sigil had been Cas’ last act as an angel. He is human now. His blue eyes smiling as he watched Deans’ face. Dean smiles at him brushing his thumb over the small nub of his nipple and Cas’ eyes widen as his body arches slightly up into the touch._

_Dean leans in and pressed a kiss to those incredible lips of his that looked dry and chapped but are always so sweet and soft against his own lips._

*****

Dean feels a weight lift from around his chest once he sees the salvage yard in the distance. A relief that comes from finally being some where that’s practically home. Of course its not exactly going to be as easy as he had hoped to get in there.

The place is practically a fortress. Bobby must have spent the entire time since the outbreak fortifying the place. Junkers are piled up like barricades all along the fence line and there is an old bus parked across the main entrance. Getting in wasn’t going to be easy.

That plus the fact the place is completely surrounded. There are hundreds of those damned walkers milling around the place. Dean climbs onto the roof of his car and watches the house with his set of binoculars. There is no visible activity in the yard or around the house.

Dean spends two hour plotting it out. Finds the easiest vantage point to climb over the junkers. Also the best place for the least amount of the horde. Getting in is going to be a risk. But he has to know who is in there. Has to know if Sam and Cas made it.

He drives the car as close as he can running down a few of the undead on the way. He still has to run twenty feet from where the car stalls to the fence line. Dean’s carrying five loaded pistols and the sawn off. Dropping them rather than reloading when each empties.

He throws his duffle up and over the wall of wrecked cars shooting two more of the horde that are approaching him. There are about fifty of them and more are coming. He is down to his silver colt as he slams a new clip into it.

When he gets to the fence it takes him a second to find his footing. Even with the leap that has his feet hanging a good two feet from the ground. Dean is hanging from the jutting out side mirror of an old Buick.

He twists looking back the way he came and firing at five of the walkers that are just getting too damned close. Last thing he wants is one of the bastards close enough to take a chunk out of his leg. The problem is, Dean can’t get a purchase on the wreckage with his feet, and he needs to keep the gun in his hand.

Dean closes his eyes. He probably should have thought about this just a little more. He clicks the safety on and shoves the pistol in the front of his jeans. The moans of the zombies are so fucking close. If they breathed he would be able to feel it on his skin.

One last try. He kicks with his feet bouncing off the wreckage and reaches up trying to catch his hand somewhere it will stick. Right now he doesn’t care about the sharp metal of the wrecks scratching at his chest.

There is a groan of metal as the mirror starts to give way. “Son of a bitch.” It’s not that he gets closer to the ground but he only has one more swing before it breaks and he is going to fall on his ass in the middle of the undead hoard. Right about then is when the hand closes over his ankle. 

Dean uses the thing to push off with. Feels its head clunk back as he slices open his palm across the top of the junker, scrambling for purchase. Dean groans through gritted teeth as he grips the sharp metal tighter and tries to heave himself up. 

He looks down and there are three of them so close they are already gnashing their teeth around his ankles as he kicks and struggles. Dean lets go of the side mirror reaching out. 

And a hand closes around his.

Sam is there hand closing around his as he fires round after round from his pistol into the walkers below. Cas is behind him, shotgun pressed to his shoulder as he clears the surrounding area.

One last kick clears Dean’s legs of the undead’s grip and Sam pulls him up. 

Dean’s laying on his back on the top of the pile of cars with Cas and Sam standing on either side of him. Bobby is sitting in his wheelchair at the bottom a rifle in his hand.

“Took you long enough!” Dean huffed out as he tried to catch his breath.

*****

_Shutting the engine off Dean slides out of the car, gun in hand and looks around. There is no movement in the yard but there could be anything hiding amongst the wrecks. Once he’s sure it’s clear he walks up to the Impala running a hand along the fender._

_“God its good to see you girl.”_

_He glances through the driver’s window, not that he is expecting anyone to be in her or anything. He can’t stop grinning as he steps up on to the porch. Bobby keeps a spare key inside an old coffee can hidden amongst some car parts and it doesn’t take Dean long to get the door open._

_Bobby’s house seems empty. Until he gets to the kitchen and his heart stops. There is blood on the floor. A lot of blood and Bobby’s wheelchair is lying on its side._

_Dean folds to his knees the world crashing down around him as he does. He has come all this way hoping to find his family and instead it looks like… Dean can’t even form the thought of what it looks like. Can’t let that dark hollow feeling inside him swallow what hope of finding them alive he has left._

_He hears the low growl before he hears the creak of the floor board behind him._

_Its’ crouched on its haunches. Bloody hoody pulled up over its head and casting shadow over its rotting features. Dean turns to face it but it’s too late the thing is already leaping through the air at him._

*****

The reunion is good, washing away the fear and weight and loneliness of the last few weeks. Sam pulls him into a bear hug that has him pressed tight against his baby brothers broad chest. Cas just smiles and then it’s Bobby's turn to pull him into an embrace that says so much more than just glad to see you son.

They explain how the Military had evacuated the cities. Forced them out. When they tried to get back in they were told that the hospital had been over run and every body had been killed.

Then Sam had to go on patrol and Cas and Bobby are doing research in the house. Dean uses the time to escape outside and run his hand over his baby's fender and make sure that his mean little brother took good care of her when he drove her here.

That night after a decent cooked meal and an actual cold beer, Dean sleeps in a genuine bed for the first time since he left the hospital. He even takes off his jeans and boots, curling under the covers in just his t-shirt and boxers.

*****

The bed dipping under the weight of some one else startles Dean awake. But before he can protest Castiel is snuggling into his side and his head is resting on Dean’s chest. 

Dean looks down at him. Not really sure how he should react. Other than the dreams, he and Castiel hadn’t been intimate. He wasn’t sure if it was something that Castiel even thought about or wanted.

“I knew you were still alive.” Castiel’s voice is soft and gravely almost a purr and Dean licks his bottom lip as he looks down at the top of his head. Dean’s arm is almost curled around Castiel and he is about to stroke it through Cas hair. When Cas shifts and turns his head so his eyes gaze up at him. 

“You are not permitted to leave me like that again.”

“I think you got that the wrong way around.” Dean grins, tucking his other arm lazily behind his head. “You’re the one that left me in the hospital remember.”

Dean can see the way that thought tears Cas up inside. Feels the flinch as Cas closes his eyes. And Dean suddenly wants to take it back. 

“I…” Cas hesitates. His eyes remaining closed. Dean shifts a little trying to see more of Cas’ face. “I dreamed of you. When you were gone.”

Dean bites his own bottom lip. He isn’t sure how to take that. It’s not like he and Cas would have dreamt the same things. That would be weirder than their usual Winchester weirdness.

“Cas? Why are you telling me this?”

“It was… inappropriate and I wanted to apologize.” Cas lowers his head onto Deans chest. Dean can even feel the warmth of his breath through his t-shirt.

“Cas.” Dean sighs and lets his head fall back to the pillow. It wasn’t like half the stuff he dreamed about over the last couple weeks had been inappropriate. “Its okay. Dreams don’t mean anything.”

“Oh.” Cas almost mumbles it into his chest. “Okay.”

Dean looks up at the ceiling watching the way the breeze in the curtains makes the moonbeams dance across its surface. Cas sounded so disappointed. Only Dean wasn’t really sure what to do about it.

He let his mind run through all the things that he had dreamt of. How he had looked forward to when Cas would join him in his dreams. How Cas being there had kept him sane. How much he had wanted what they had in the dreams to be real.

Only how was he going to make that transition. Dean wasn’t any where near enough like Bruce Wayne to plot this thing out. The pick up line of Want me to make your dreams come true popped into his head and Dean snorted at that.

Instead of trying it though he hooked his finger under Castiel’s chin lifting the guy’s head till he could see those blue eyes reflecting the moon light.

“Cas you gonna lie there all night or you wanna kiss me now?” Dean smiled.

Castiel trembled. Just for the briefest of moments his eyes going dark and then becoming clear as Cas leaned in and pressed his lips to his. Dean still had his fingers under Cas’ chin.


End file.
